


72 Hours

by OptimisticJamie



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Angst, Grief/Mourning, Hurt, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-03
Updated: 2016-02-03
Packaged: 2018-05-18 00:35:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5891203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OptimisticJamie/pseuds/OptimisticJamie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three days. 72 hours with nothing but maybe 2 hours of restless sleep, but he had to do it, he had to get Duncan safe. If he stopped to sleep for even a minute someone or something would get them, and knowing his luck Duncan would suffer and he’d be left alone. Permanently.</p>
            </blockquote>





	72 Hours

Three days. 72 hours with nothing but maybe 2 hours of restless sleep, but he had to do it, he had to get Duncan safe. If he stopped to sleep for even a minute someone or something would get them, and knowing his luck Duncan would suffer and he’d be left alone. Permanently. 

He just needed to get to a safe house. He had no idea where, after the attack so may months ago he didn’t want to trust anyone—didn’t even trust himself to seek shelter in his usual comfort of a rocky ceiling. Damn Ferals. 

The very thought of the attack has tears prickling behind his eyes and his nose began to sting. He sniffed; relieved to find his nose dry, and shifted Duncan in his arms so he could carry him for a little longer in comfort. The boy was beginning to squirm slightly, annoyed from having to be carried for so long. MacCready’s feet were dragging heavily; at this rate he was more likely to attract attention from unwanted raiders or ghouls than actually get anywhere. 

With a reluctant sigh he shushed Duncan gently before scouting out a place to rest his feet. A decrepit bus just a few meters in front of him, surrounded by the skeletons of long-rusted cars. It was open, it was risky, but at this point it was better than clearing a house or a cave. Aiming for the bus he placed Duncan on the ground and stooped to keep a hold of the young boy’s hand. 

Duncan was only old enough to hold three of MacCready’s fingers. This knowledge brought another painful stab of grief. Lucy needed to be here. Duncan barely ate the solid food MacCready could provide, instead electing to eat anything puréed. Which MacCready could only expect; Duncan wasn’t even teething yet, he would be soon and Lucy was not with him to help him. MacCready needed Lucy as much as his son did.

They hobbled towards the bus at a slow pace, almost putting MacCready to sleep. When they were within throwing distance of the clutch of cars MacCready scooped up Duncan and held him tight, suddenly alert. He crouched, manoeuvring in order to peer under the vehicles. Nothing. Moving closer he looked inside the cars, searching for any sign of something about to jump out at him and maul his face off. 

When nothing attacked from inside the cars or bus MacCready shouldered open the door. The bus was in better condition than most. It had a door and the roof was still in tack. The only problem was the missing windows. Anything could climb into them, but MacCready was too tired to worry. He placed a frag mine on the concrete outside the door of the bus and jammed the door closed with a spare rifle he had run out of ammo for a long while back. 

He settled on the floor, leaning against the side of the bus and put Duncan down. 

His son sat and watched him with large, curious eyes. He waved his arms around and made grabbing motions with his hands. With one hand on Duncan’s back and the other clutching his rifle tight MacCready drifted into a doze. 

He woke again to the sound of Duncan whimpering. Fearing something was wrong MacCready bolted upright, his sleep-addled mind causing him to see things that weren’t really there. A Feral at the end of the bus, peering in. Another terrified shake and MacCready was awake, nothing around him, everything as it was when he drifted off. 

Only Duncan was crying. 

The boy was a quiet crier—sometimes. He sniffled and whimpered from where he sat a little further down the bus than before, but safe. He seemed to be looking for someone, his blue eyes scanning the bus before he brought a fist up to rub his face with a chocked off whimper. 

MacCready crawled towards him and pulled the boy into his lap, he gently rubbed the flat of his hand up and down Duncan’s back, soothing the child’s whimpers with a quiet shushing noise. 

When MacCready looked down he noticed that Duncan’s pants had slipped down. Not uncommon, MacCready was still learning how to patch and adjust clothes to fit. He tugged at the waistband, pulling them back into place before returning to soothing Duncan. 

That’s when he noticed Duncan’s skin was warmer than usual. His heart lurched. He _needed_ to find somewhere to stay, somewhere he could look after Duncan till his fever broke and he could travel again, or maybe somewhere to stay till Duncan was old enough to talk.

This time MacCready couldn’t stop the sob that escaped his lips. His noise distressed Duncan and he started crying again, louder this time. MacCready curled around Duncan’s small body, holding him close and rubbing his back again. 

“Shhh, son…i-it’s okay.” He reasurred, knowing it was a lie. “We’re okay. W-we’re gonna be—“ Gonna be what?

“Going to be…”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry. I got hit with the feels bat after reading a few fluffy MacCready sees Duncan again fics and my brain just had to ruin it.


End file.
